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March 30, 2012 03:28:37
Posted By Style
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I am a Starbucks addict. If I wasn’t addicted, I’d never do
business with this outfit again. Why? Because I regularly
drink
Venti Mocha Frappuccinos with a single shot of espresso
blended in
and almost every time, I don’t get what I paid for.
The problem with the majority of Starbucks is that they make
the
frapp with the shot in it, fill up the cup and then dump out
the
remainder (usually 20%) or so that’s in the blender. The
problem
when you dump that 20% out, they dump out 20% of my espresso
shot
that I paid an extra 75 cents for. That adds up if you have an
average of 5 of these drinks a week.
I’ve called Head Office about this issue to see if I was
ordering
it wrong, like get it on the side or order a “complete shot”,
the
customer service said that there shouldn’t be any dumped out.
This
isn’t the case though at the majority of Starbucks I go to.
After
a trip to Maple Grove, Minnesota Starbucks yesterday, I saw
the
girl dump out about half the drink which meant half my shot
was
gone. I took the drink, couldn’t taste the shot so asked for
another shot (not a remake of the drink, I wasn’t trying to be
a
jerk) because she dumped half of it out. I guess I was a
mental-
case for saying something about this, she told me that it’s
the
nature of frappucinos to dump some out so I could never get
the
full shot I bought and then reluctantly gave me a shot of
espresso
to add in myself. If I had a gun, I would have shot myself
right
there in front of her because it appeared I was very out of
line
for saying something and don’t deserve to live on the same
planet
as that barista.
I know there are more important things in life than getting
screwed by Starbucks on a regular basis by a fifth of a shot
of
espresso or so but it’s a crappy way to start the day off –
getting screwed, even if it’s just a little screwed. If I
wasn’t
addicted, I wouldn’t piss and moan about this issue but the
problem is that Starbucks has
what I need…
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March 9, 2011 07:57:59
Posted By Style
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It’s been year ago today since scary Miss Carrie came and took our baby and left us with nothing but tears. A year has passed but not a day has that I haven’t thought about it. It’s not an easy thing to deal with or talk about. This is probably the first time that many people who know me will even hear that it happened.
Along the way, I heard some real stupid comments from people I spoke to about what we’ve gone through and I’ll share some of them here as a “what not to say to someone” going through this brutal experience.
First off, a guy at the hospital who saw me upset and asked what was wrong said, “that’s like me mourning the 250 million potential babies I lose every time I j_rk off into a candle.” I didn’t respond but my answer today is “no, it’s not”. We were just starting to tell people as we were in the second trimester and from what I know most people don’t share every time they try to put out the flame of a candle pleasing themselves.
I was told multiple times by people that it was “for the best”. I can’t help but wonder if they thought our child going to be some menace to society?
One of the worst things I was told was by a Catholic priest who said that our baby wouldn’t be in hell, but instead, a state of limbo, not heaven, because the baby wasn’t baptized. I have a hard time believing that God would punish a helpless child that wasn’t baptized but that’s just the non-church goer in me speaking I guess.
We also heard over and over from people that their friend or cousin or whatever went through that, “it happens”. Well, maybe it does and I feel bad for everyone who went through it but for the record, it doesn’t make you feel better just because other people go through it.
The thing many people don’t realize is our baby Darlynne died. I was planning on going to her wedding, her graduation, teaching her music and taking her to school. I never got to hold her. I loved her, I still do and it’s an epic thing to go through – all the plans turned to pain.
My advice is if you find out that someone is going through a miscarriage, sharing statistics doesn’t help whatsoever. Just say “I’m so sorry to hear that, I’m here for you if you want to talk about it”, and maybe call every once in a while to let them know that you care.
Even with my experience, I’m sure I couldn’t imagine the pain a parent must feel of losing a child at birth or at any age, and if anything, all I know is words can’t describe the pain. Miscarriage is a word that labels something that is so much more painful than what the word implies. The word hides the horror. I can’t imagine what my wife went through, carrying around our baby that last day, a baby that was missing a heartbeat. I’m missing a heartbeat…
RIP Darlynne “Meekro” - I can’t help but wonder what would have been… Dad
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May 25, 2010 12:21:23
Posted By Style
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I don’t talk much about my cultural background but I feel it’s time that I bring it up so I can do my best to bring a stop to probably one of the most insulting saying that is thrown around carelessly by so many. My cultural background is Ukrainian and with that background, or even if I wasn’t Ukrainian, I am and would be very insulted every time someone says “no worries” to me. It feels like someone says that to me every day or so and every time I hear that, a piece of me dies inside.
I imagine, or I hope, that the people who use that awful saying don’t understand the background of the phrase. Back in the early 1940s in the Ukraine, Adolf Hitler sent travelling death squads throughout the Ukraine to exterminate those he didn’t think deserved to live, which included tens of thousands of Ukrainians. The last thing these poor people heard before they were executed by these Nazi death squads was “Keine Angst” or sometimes, “Keine Sorge” which translates to “No Worries”. This is what so many people, including innocent children, were told just before watching their parents get executed before their eyes and then again prior to when they too, were executed, usually as they looked directly into the oncoming gun fire.
I’ve never personally used the offensive phrase “no worries” to anyone under any circumstance and I hope someday soon that this phrase is abolished from the English language. I guess it’s because my Grandfather came to Canada in the 1940s after he witnessed the Nazis murder much of his family, friends and neighbors all while he heard “Keine Sorge” and “Kiene Angst”, over and over again.
So out of respect for those that were senselessly put to their deaths, please don’t ever say “no worries” to anyone, unless of course you are some kind of a modern day Nazi who gets a kick out of the suffering of the innocent. And, whenever you hear someone use the awful words “no worries”, please pass on the origin of this phrase so we can bring it to an end.
Peace….
Lyle
www.doitwithstyle.com
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July 15, 2009 07:12:51
Posted By Style
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 If someone would have told me that I’d ever write a word about Michael Jackson on my website a month ago, I wouldn’t have believed it. The death of Michael had little to no affect on me, when I heard the news, I just assumed it was a hoax as I’ve been hearing about his comeback for some time and what a better way to “comeback” than from the dead. There’s still people who think Elvis faked his death, and from what I understand Michael was fascinated by the death of Elvis and spoke of it often.
The thing that freaked me out more than the death of Michael Jackson was the record number of suicides that took place in the following 48 hours of news of his “death”. Never in history has there been more suicides recorded since 1984 when “99 Neuf Balloons” was in the charts. I did a psychology paper in ’91 on how more suicides took place with that 45 found on the record player or directly linked to that song than any other song out there, the second place song linked to thousands of suicides (to this day), is the theme from the Nutcracker.
Anyway, it hit me a week or so ago that around Christmas of this past year, I received an email from a “Michael” (no last name) who asked how Johnny faked his death in my screenplay “The Life and Death of Johnny Kitsalano”. I replied to “Michael” with a pitch on buying the screenplay and then he would find out exactly how Johnny did it successfully (for the record, I at no point thought at that time it was Michael Jackson, I thought someone was just trying to steal my idea). I never got a response back from that email pitch and I never gave it any thought until this past week. I did a detailed search on my hard drive and even on my back-ups looking for that email (and my response) so I could prove that I’m not making this up but in January, I got a virus that made me format my laptop so unfortunately I have no record of these emails. Now I realize there are probably hundreds of “Michaels” living in the world and what are the odds that it was Michael Jackson, but I thought I’d throw it out there as it’s been eating at me -so perhaps that is proof Michael Jackson faked his death. And for the record, this story is free to read about, that should prove the legitimacy, it’s not like I’m trying to sell my story to the media.
Anyway, I do feel bad for those that cared about the guy and even more so for the families and friends of those who took their own lives shortly after his “death” was announced. I have to admit though that it was an honour hearing that some memorials played my song “Until Next Time” which is a fitting song for a funeral and oddly enough, if someone chose to fake their death (available on ITunes & my album “Cutting Room Floor”).
www.doitwithstyle.com
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March 22, 2009 06:37:02
Posted By Style
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 Someone came up to me when I was standing in line at Starbucks at Portage Place and said “You’re the reason your Grandmother is dead” and then she walked away. I was a little dumbfounded, I didn’t even respond to her and I tried to act like nothing happened, I just kept my head down but I could feel people staring at me. The lady who said that to me was probably in her 50s, she didn’t look insane, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen her before in my life, but it got me thinking, maybe I am the reason my Grandmother is dead. I wasn’t too close with my Grandmother but there’s no reason I’d ever want her to die although one of the last things she said to me was, in front of a room full of people I might add, “I can’t believe how fat you’ve gotten”. It hurt, but she was right, I did get fat although it’s strange because I don’t eat or drink as much as I used to, in fact, I eat quite a bit healthier than I ever did yet the pounds seemed to catch up with me in my 30s. I was never skinny but I admit, I’m ashamed of the way I look. But still, that’s no reason to plot my Grandmother’s demise.
When my Great Grandmother died and my Grandfather a few years later, I sang at their funerals, separately, of course. I sang “I’ll have a blue Christmas without you” to my deceased Great Grandmother which was fitting in a way since she died right before Christmas. For my Grandfather, I wrote and sung a song called “See You When We See You” which was something he’d say when he was saying goodbye to someone.
Now, I think my Grandmother told me “I want you to sing when it’s time for me to go” but I wouldn’t bet my life on it. In fact, when she did die last year, no one asked me to sing at the funeral, and I was fine with that, it’s not like I think it’s a good time to promote my music career at a funeral, however, it ate at me that I should sing a song at her funeral because I think she told me she wanted me to. So I asked my mom if I could sing at her funeral, and with the permission of a few key siblings, I was granted my wish. I sang “Until Next Time” which is the closing track on my CD (which I didn’t advertize at any point during the funeral, for the record). I did that song because it’s a sort of farewell track that seemed fitting. I don’t know if I did the right thing by singing at her funeral. I hope she didn’t mind.
Anyway, my Grandmother died just a few weeks before our son was born, leading up to that time, I never called her as much as I should have. I think it’s because I had a lot on my plate at the time, a pregnant wife, a CD in production, busy with life in general, or perhaps it’s because subconsciously, I knew I was still fat and a part of me was ashamed and maybe even jealous because I knew she lost a lot of weight.
Since that day at Starbucks, I’ve been carrying guilt over my Grandmother’s passing although I don’t know if I should or not. I still can’t figure out why that lady said that I’m the reason she’s dead but no matter how hard I try, I can’t prove that I’m not the reason she’s dead. A part of me also can’t help thinking that there’s a good chance she said that to the guy in line behind me.
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